“If Calperton does not marry again of course.”
“Kate, you are not thinking—”
“I have refused a Duke and two Earls. Do you think I should succumb to my Lord Calperton?”
“You might possibly love the man more than a great title.”
“There speaks the old sentimental Damask. I do declare you amaze me. A scheming matchmaking mother one moment, gloating over the fine match her daughter will make, and then sentimentally talking of love. Let me tell you this, Damask. I have no intention of taking Calperton. As far as I am concerned Honey shall have the scene all to herself. But I know my Calperton. He wishes Edward to marry. He wants a grandson. Young Edward is completely enamored of Mistress Honey—and I am not surprised. My Lord will reason that he is more likely to get healthy sons with a young woman who so enthralls him. “I’ll wager you that ere long there will be a discreet offer for Honey’s hand.”
I was so delighted, because I knew the state of Honey’s feelings.
And when the offer came, I myself saw Lord Calperton. I told him that Honey was my adopted daughter; I myself would provide her dowry. She was well educated, a lady in every sense. She was the daughter of a woman who had served me but been a friend; and her father had worked for Thomas Cromwell. He was satisfied.
Honey was married on that June day in the year 1557 when war was declared on France.
The marriage was celebrated at the chapel in Caseman Court. I had chosen this because after all it was my home and I made the excuse that it would do my mother good to supervise the celebrations. And it did; bustling about her garden, gathering herbs for this and that, practicing with her new salads and giving orders in the kitchen seemed to bring her alive again.
Bruno attended the wedding but he was aloof. As for Honey she had little to say to him; she had always avoided him.
We had the usual ceremonies with the bridecake and the mummers came in and performed. I was gratified to see my mother laughing merrily at their antics, and happy to pass Honey on to Edward Ennis, for it had given me the utmost pleasure to see her happily settled.
After the wedding we all seemed faintly depressed. My mother, deprived of all the tasks which the wedding had entailed, sank into melancholy once more; what surprised me most was how much Catherine missed Honey, far more than I had believed possible. She became moody—very different from the girl who had danced so gaily and teased Carey as Queen of Misrule.
Kate came to the rescue by suggesting that Catherine should come to Remus Castle for a spell and this was arranged. I was surprised by the alacrity with which she went.
It was soon after her departure that one of the servants brought me a message from Mother Salter. These messages were in a way like commands, and it did not occur to me to disobey them. I suppose deep down in me I was superstitious as most other people although my father’s teaching should have placed me beyond such primitive thinking. Mother Salter was a witch but she was the great-grandmother of Bruno, child of a serving girl and a monk, who had risen to become head of a community, and of Honey who had married into the aristocracy; and when I considered this I realized that it was Mother Salter who had made the fortunes of both her grandchildren.
She was a power in her little cottage as Bruno was in his Abbey and the reason was that we all believed—in lesser or greater degree—in the extraordinary powers of these people. I no less than the most gullible of my serving girls.
So I lost no time in going to Mother Salter in the woods.
I was shocked when I saw her. She had always been lean, now she was emaciated.
I cried out: “Why, Mother Salter, you are ill.”
She caught my hand, hers was cold and clawlike; I noticed the brown marks on her skin which we call the flowers of death.
“I am ready to go,” she said. “My grandson’s fate is in his own hands. I have provided for my granddaughter.”
I could have smiled for was I not the one who had nurtured Honey and educated her so that she was a fitting bride for a noble gentleman? But I knew what she meant. She had insisted that I care for Honey; and if Keziah could be believed, it was Mother Salter who had planned that the child should be placed in the Christmas crib.
“You have done well,” she said. “I wanted to bless you before I go.
“Thank you.”
“There is no need to thank me. Had you not cared for the child I would have cursed you.”
“I love her as my own. She has brought great joy to me.”
“You gave much—you received much. That is the law,” she said.
“And you are unfit to be alone. Who cares for you here?”
“I have always cared for myself.”
“What of your cat?” I said. “I do not see it.”
“I buried it this day.”
“You will be lonely without it.”
“My time has come.”
I said: “I cannot allow you to stay here to die.”
“You, Mistress, cannot.”
“These woods are Abbey woods, and are you not my Honey’s grandmother? Could I allow you to stay here alone?”
“What then, Mistress?”
“A plan has come to me. It will do much good, I think. I shall take you to my mother. She will care for you. She needs help for she is a sad woman. You will give her that. She is very interested in herbs and remedies. You could teach her much.”
“A noble lady with old Mother Salter in her house!”
“Oh, come, old Mother Salter has not such a poor opinion of herself.”
“So you give orders here.”
“I care for the sick on my husband’s Abbey lands.”
She looked at me slyly. “You would not take me to my grandson.”
“I would take you to my mother.”
“Hee-hee.” She had what I had always thought of as a witch’s cackle. “He would not be pleased to see me. Honey used to come to me. She confided in me. She told me of her love for you and how she feared you loved your own child more. ’Twas natural. I blamed you not for that. You have done your work well and I don’t forget it. But let those who heed me not take care.”
My heart was filled with pity for this poor old woman, sick and near to death, still clinging to the powers which she had possessed or led people to believe she possessed.
I said I would prepare my mother to receive her and I went to her immediately. She agreed to take in Mother Salter once she had grown accustomed to the incongruous idea; she commanded her servants to prepare a room, put fresh rushes on the floor, and make up a pallet as a bed. Then she and I went together and we set Mother Salter on a mule and brought her to Caseman Court.
It was an unconventional thing to have done. Bruno was aghast.
“To take that old woman to your mother’s house! You must be mad. Are you going to gather up all the poor and set them up in Caseman Court?”
“She is no ordinary woman.”
“No, she has an evil reputation. She traffics with the devil. She could be burned at the stake for her activities.”
“Many a good man and woman has met that fate. Surely you understand why I must give this woman especial care.”
“Because of her relationship to the bastard you adopted.”
Then because I could not bear him to refer slightingly to Honey I cried out: “Yes, because she is Honey’s great-grandmother…and yours.”
I saw the hatred in his face. He knew that I had never believed in the miracle and this was at the very root of the rift between us. Before I had implied my disbelief; now I said it outright.
“You have worked against me always,” he said savagely.
“I would willingly work with you and for you. And why should facing the truth interfere with that?”